Longing

I sometimes
long for the days when
I was a blank
inscrutable, Asian
in Charlie Chan
fashion, no one knowing
whether I was an idiot or
someone else.
it's almost funny
how naive I can be,
thinking
i am something after all:
all the days and nights
afternoons, sublime
endangerment,
subsumed in inner meditation
when i fell in love
not knowing
how calculating other people could be:

it's hard to be trying to please everyone,
putting up the right face
facade,
mirage,
phantasmagoria
for the
occasion
which meets the eye.

sometimes, i think
i was so happy when i was young,
then i was
becoming an alcoholic,
even a drug addict
when i was so young
because i was nothing
at all
and who cares about
nothing at all.